


chatter

by doublejoint



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Snowboarding, Winter Olympics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23454460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doublejoint/pseuds/doublejoint
Summary: "I don't like losing."
Relationships: Alexandra Garcia & Himuro Tatsuya & Kagami Taiga, Alexandra Garcia & Kagami Taiga
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	chatter

**Author's Note:**

> companion piece to ['stick the blind landing'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13687812) (this probably only makes sense if you read at least the first part of that)

Taiga has never been one to be caught up in the nuances of the numbers, the calculations of how well he has to do to beat such-and-such competitor, how badly he can do and still salvage a medal or make it to the next round. He always goes out there and does his damn best, as illogical as many people (Alex included) have thought or even said to him. But it’s the way he operates, the respect he shows his opponents, the pressure he puts on himself and the love he has for the sport, manifesting themself in this way in him.

He’d looked at Tatsuya’s score anyway, done the mental calculation and looked at her for an answer.

“98,” she’d said, and he’d nodded and grabbed his board. 

She and Tatsuya had watched his last run together, Tatsuya barely breathing as he’d watched every jump and every turn, scoring them over-generously in his head until he’d let himself stop and just enjoy Taiga’s performance for what it was, the air he’d caught out of nothing and effortless, beautiful flips that everyone always wants to credit Alex with but are really all Taiga. She’s used to scoring while watching her students; if the judges are feeling kind to Taiga they might score him close to what he needs, but Tatsuya had saved the best for last and Taiga’s run is excellent but not quite enough, Alex thinks (or maybe she’s being too hard on him, not that he needs it, because when he lifts off he really looks like he’s flying and God does she have to try and figure out what she does, preferably right now or as soon as possible).

They score him fairly, less than a point under what it would have taken to win the gold, and Tatsuya’s going to try and make himself unhappy about how close it was but Alex will not let him. 

“Enjoy it, kid,” she says, hugging him around the waist and ruffling his hair. 

Half the cameras are on them anyway, waiting for the results; Taiga’s still on his way but he knows how it is and he’s smiling.

They’d both fought hard, and is there any better victory for a coach than her two favorite students in the top two?

* * *

Alex has been grabbed by at least seven different journalists asking her about Taiga, Tatsuya, both, the state of snowboarding, her career, and who she thinks should have won the woman’s final earlier that she still hasn’t had time to watch. It’s worse for the kids in terms of volume, but they’re getting softball questions about how it feels to win and the thrill of competition and deciding on their routines. In what she hears, they both thank her way too much, and each other maybe not enough.

She catches more of Taiga’s conference, the sweat still sticking his hair to his forehead and the way he runs a hand through his hair and smiles at questions hits Alex like an unexpected bump on the surface of the snow, all at once like she’s seeing herself at the same age and the same level, too many years ago. 

“Anyway,” says Taiga, a flash of teeth (more of his are real than hers were then). 

The medal hangs from his neck at the right angle to shine off the flashbulbs; the effects would be cheesy but with Taiga they rarely are.

* * *

Alex leaves Taiga and Tatsuya to each other for a bit and wanders around, hands deep in the pockets of her team jacket (really Taiga’s, but he claimed not to need an extra one especially after they’d already given him one to wear during the actual competition). It’s surprisingly warm, though she supposes she’s wearing a thick sweater underneath it and discounting the way she’s always ignored the weather and worn what she wants to. She wonders if she should try and head back to get some food, but she catches Tatsuya heading the other way, clearly with a destination in mind.

Taiga’s standing by the half-pipe signing autographs for a gaggle of excited kids and their parents, bending down to pose for medal selfies with them. A few more join the queue while Taiga’s occupied, but eventually they disperse, on their way to the next event or in search of someone or something else. Taiga sits down on the snow once the last one is sufficiently far away. Alex doesn’t want to intrude, but his posture is still open, so she walks over and sits down next to him.

“You did good.”

“Thanks.”

She knows he knows, but does he know how proud she is of him, and of Tatsuya? Does he know how glad she is that he was able to pay attention to the numbers and then go out there and perform the way he always does? 

“I don’t like losing.”

She waits.

“Like...I can’t not be happy for Tatsuya and, I mean, did you see his performance? Nothing’s made me want to get out on the half-pipe and just fucking board like seeing that did for like, a long time, and I wasn’t thinking about the scores too much when I was doing it, but...I don’t know. I know I’m not always going to be the best, but…”

“You’re not used to it.”

Taiga shakes his head, then runs a hand through his hair again.

“It sucks,” says Alex. “But there was a time when you lost all the time.”

“I know. I’m not in despair or like, ready to quit, but--I want a rematch.”

“Tatsuya will give you one.”

“You know what I mean. And he’s not going to do stuff like that.”

“I think it’s fair game once he’s used it in a competition. He wouldn’t hold back and go easy on you.”

“I know, but...he didn’t use it before. I’ve never seen him do any of this before! And I know that’s how he works, and he’s going to do his own thing and just...show up with it, but. I don’t know. I don’t know how to talk about it with him.”

Taiga’s gloved hands curl into the snow, as if through cookie dough.

“Sorry,” he says. “I just feel fucking--I don’t know.”

“Tell him how you feel,” says Alex. “He’s a good listener.”

(He doesn’t only hear only what he wants to anymore; he can stop his thoughts from preempting him most of the time and he gives the benefit of the doubt more charitably.)

He’s still kneading the snow with his knuckles; he’s still restless. And she kind of wants to grab a board right now, too--there’s got to be somewhere they can practice. Alex hauls herself up to her feet and sticks out her hand.

“Come on. Let’s go board.”


End file.
